There are no words left
After the last teardrop ends.
Such a foolish being I was to pretend
I knew all there is to know about sadness and tears
Mere water, minerals and other little substances
Unlike they are carrying secrets of a thousand years.
Would I be most lucky
If I could take one of them,
A single teardrop
Freeze it forever in time,
And watch the ball drop.
So I could learn all the secret wisdom within
Learn about my pain, my joys, my angst, my aching
Learn about why a certain smell or time sends me rotating
But most of all, take back all the words it seems to keep taking
From my lips.
I want something to say but from my mind it continuously slips.
Alas, there is no science
That can recapture the words that evaporated with the tears
No science to metaphorically condense
Those escaped words back into something that makes sense
Definitely not back into liquid for inside the ink of my pen
Sometimes all of time feels futile; past-present-future blend
The fact is, here I am, facing a reality most grim;
Accepting that sometimes, even words can face a tragic end
By a single teardrop.
October 8, 2019